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He couldn’t play his game if anyone thought he was soft or weak in any way. So he acted tough, and joked about beating everyone on the ice the way he’d beaten this disease. He never spoke about those black nights. When the doctors had first said the C word.
He hadn’t thought he was really sick. Just a minor urinary tract infection. The doctors would give him some antibiotics, and then he’d be fine. But it wasn’t an infection. It was prostate cancer. There was something in his body that wanted to kill him.
It took a while to get his mind around that. So he’d acquiesced to the advice of his doctors to wait and evaluate how things progressed. He’d tried chemo and radiation, before everyone had finally agreed that surgery was the answer. In hindsight, he’d have been smarter to just have the surgery at the very beginning. The various courses of treatment had meant that he’d missed a whole season before he had a clear bill of health.
During that year—a long, difficult year he did his best to forget—there had been too many nights when he’d woken up in a panic, unable to sleep while Death lay stretched out in the bed beside him.
He was mostly over that now, but there were still nights when he’d wake up, sure he could feel the cancer in his body again, killing him from the inside. The doctors believed they’d caught it all, that it hadn’t metastasized and spread elsewhere. It was worth losing his prostate for that. But there were no guarantees. Michelle’s comment about her husband only reminded him of that.
After she left he pulled out his phone and called down to the concierge and asked for the name of his new neighbor. He gave it, and Troy typed “Michelle Robertson” into the search bar of his browser. He added “army” and “widow” to narrow the results down.
He wanted to know why her husband had died. He realized she might not be happy about it, but he was willing to push some boundaries when it came to the big C. He needed to know if it was cancer, and if it was the same kind that he’d had.
Prostate cancer was rare in young men, but Troy knew only too well that didn’t mean younger men couldn’t get it. He wanted the cause to be anything else, so that Troy’s own odds were better.
It took a bit of searching, but he found out the answer. And it was anything but what he’d expected.
CHAPTER TWO (#u943ef691-6190-54df-bace-46f4776070ea)
“IT’LL BE GREAT,” Michelle said, ruffling Tommy’s hair. The look on his face told her that he didn’t believe her, but knew she had to say it anyway. She wanted to hug him, but he was too old now for such displays of affection in front of others. So she watched him file into the school with a pang.
Michelle and the kids hadn’t arrived at school with the additional time she’d hoped for, but they hadn’t been late. The kids were nervous. Angie got more talkative when she was unsure of herself, while Tommy grew even quieter. Michelle was nervous, too, mostly for her kids. Angie was outgoing, and likely to make friends. Tommy had always been shy, with a smaller circle of friends than his sister, but that was even more the case since his father’s death. He wouldn’t make the first steps to reach out to someone, and her heart ached to force the other boys to be kind to him.
She waved the kids off and then, once they’d disappeared into the school, she headed for the nearest subway entrance.
She hadn’t had a chance to familiarize herself with her route to class the way she’d have liked to do. Subways were new to her, since they only had buses back in the ’Peg. Fortunately, the Toronto Transit System was mostly one loop south and north, and one main line east and west. She had to listen carefully to the garbled transit announcements and watch the map closely, but she made her way to school without mishap.
She then followed the instructions she’d carefully printed out to get to her classes.
She’d enrolled in a one-year bookkeeping program. She didn’t have an avid interest in numbers, but math had been one of her better subjects, and her years in the Forces hadn’t provided her with many marketable skills outside the army. Bookkeeping seemed manageable for someone with only a high school diploma, and it also had good job prospects.
Once she found her classroom, she sat in the back and tried to be invisible as the teacher began the lesson. Since she was so new at this, and hadn’t been in class for a long time, she was planning to attend a lot of the lectures in person, even though it was possible to do most of the program online. Though that would be a nice option if she needed to take time with the kids.
The first class was overwhelming. She was scribbling notes madly, even when she didn’t understand what she was writing down. The matching principal almost made sense, but who decided on the boundaries for materiality? The students around her were all taking notes on their computers, while she was there with a binder and pen. She couldn’t keep up. She was definitely going to have to watch this lecture again at home.
She ate her lunch alone on a bench outside. She watched the other students walk by. They were mostly in groups, and they were all younger. The students were wearing new clothes that looked old, while she was wearing old things that she hoped looked new. She felt ancient and stupid. What had she gotten herself into?
She made her way back to the kids’ school for the end of the day in plenty of time and waited for them to come out. Some other parents began to gather. Michelle knew she should introduce herself but she couldn’t, not now. She was tired and discouraged. She wasn’t ready to answer the questions about what she did, where the children’s father was, what had happened and then the inevitable response, “oh how sad.”
The bell rang, and kids started spilling from the building.
Angie was the first to appear. She had another girl with her and she dragged her new friend over to her mother.
The other girl, Brittany, was a hockey player, and Michelle understood immediately how the two had bonded. Angie was hockey crazy. Her dad had started to watch games with her before his first tour. Michelle had enrolled her in skating lessons, but Angie had wanted to play hockey and it had been her passion ever since.
It was no surprise that Angie had recognized Troy Green. Angie still loved the Winnipeg Whiteout, but as soon as the move to Toronto had been broached she’d been checking out the Toronto teams and players. The other Toronto club had been around longer, but the Blaze had won the Cup a couple of years ago, and Angie had picked them as her Toronto team.
Angie was overflowing with information she wanted to share with Michelle about Brittany’s hockey team. Angie had gotten all the details about when she herself could try out. She and her new friend had compared skills and were sure they would end up on the team together.
Michelle had been avoiding the H word. She knew Angie loved hockey, and was good at it, but her ambition of being the first woman skater in the top league had very little chance of coming to pass.
In fact, this year, playing at all might have little chance of coming to pass. Here in Toronto, without a car and with cash tight, Michelle couldn’t afford the fees, the gear and the transit to the games and practices. She had learned from experience that the practice hours were early and awkward, and away games were unlikely to be on the subway lines.
So she made noncommittal responses to Angie, greeted Brittany’s mother and kept one eye open for Tommy. She smiled as he finally emerged, walking slowly, head down and alone. Her smile faltered.
Michelle told Angie to say goodbye to her friend, gathered Tommy and headed home.
Michelle managed to avoid the upcoming storm with Angie about the hockey team by trying to draw Tommy out as they walked to the condo.
“So, how was school, Tommy?”
He didn’t look up. “Fine.”
“Do you like your teacher?”
Tommy shrugged.
“Tommy’s got the strictest teacher in school. My teacher is nicer, but she gives lots of homework,” Angie said.
“Were the other kids nice?” Michelle asked Tommy, voice tight with worry.
“They’re okay.”
Michelle told them a bit about her school, editing out all the worrisome parts, but their interest was perfunctory.
When they got to the condo building, she let the kids head up in the elevator first, while she stopped to ask at the desk about nearby grocery stores. There was a store not far away that would deliver, apparently.
She’d go get milk and bread from a convenience store tonight, and order some groceries online for tomorrow. She’d probably have to find a more economical solution going forward, but there was just too much to settle right now. They’d treat themselves to pizza tonight. She needed to get on top of things, not let things get out of hand like they had this morning.
When she got up to the top floor, Tommy was standing in the doorway of the condo, waiting, while Angie was chattering to their new neighbor, Troy Green. She was telling him all about the new hockey team she assumed she was joining, and asking him if it was a good step on her path to playing professionally.
Troy was being patient, but he was dressed to go out and Michelle was afraid Angie was holding him up. She sighed. Angie would be angry with her for breaking up her tête-à-tête. Then she’d have to finally tell her that she wasn’t playing hockey this year. She closed her eyes for a moment, and with a mental sigh, opened them and squared her shoulders.
* * *
“IT’S NOT FAIR!” Angie yelled at her mother, face red.
Michelle struggled to hold on to her temper.
“I know it’s not fair. But we just don’t have the money.”
“Dad would have let me.” Angie threw the words at her.
Michelle flinched. If Angie’s father was still alive, they wouldn’t be here, wouldn’t be having this conversation. “That’s irrelevant right now,” she answered.
“Is Tommy doing his Tae Kwon Do?”
“Yes. But—”
“That’s so unfair. It’s because he’s a boy, isn’t it? I hate you!” Angie spun around to run to her room.
“Angela Louise Robertson!”
Angie stopped. The full name was a sign of her mom losing it.
“I am doing nothing differently because Tommy is a boy. Tommy is wearing the same dobok as last year, so I don’t have to buy that. The dojang is two blocks away so we can walk and the lessons are reasonable. On the other hand, you grew out of all your hockey gear last year and it costs a he—a heck of a lot more than a dobak. The arenas are all miles away, and we don’t have a car. And hockey is very expensive.
“If you can come up with something cheaper to do, I’ll sign you up tonight. We could try swimming, or soccer...and when I can afford it, we’ll get you back into hockey, but I just can’t right now!”
Unfortunately, the cold hard facts didn’t help with Angie. She turned her nose up at Michelle’s offers and wouldn’t even let Michelle finish an invitation to join Tommy at Tae Kwon Do.
“I’ll get a job.”
“A twelve-year-old can’t make enough to cover hockey costs. There’s not much you can do right now anyway. You’ll need to take the babysitting course to make money that way, and we don’t know anyone in Toronto to babysit.”
Angie’s lip quivered. “I’ll ask everyone who sends me money for Christmas to send it now instead.”
Michelle explained that wouldn’t be enough. It wasn’t just the fees; it was equipment and transportation. Their family members weren’t rich.
Michelle couldn’t ask for any more favors from her family and friends. She wanted more than anything else to give her daughter what she wanted, what she dreamed of, but she simply did not have enough money. If she gave up school and got a job, maybe they could cover hockey this year. But next year, when they were no longer house-sitting and had to pay rent? Michelle had to finish these courses so she could make enough money to support them. Angie, though, could only see her dream slipping from her fingers.
Michelle finally went out for pizza, reminding the crying girl that she was in charge of her brother while her mother was gone. While she was out, she picked up milk and bread for breakfast and lunch tomorrow. The pizza she carried was no longer the big celebration she’d hoped for. It seemed as if everyone had had a crappy day.
Everyone but her neighbor. Troy Green was already inside when she walked into the elevator with her food at the lobby floor. He’d obviously driven into the garage and gotten on the elevator at one of the parking levels. He looked relaxed, carefree and rich, a shopping bag from a name-brand store in his hand.
“I ordered some milk, so I’ll be able to return the bag you loaned us tomorrow,” she said tersely. She only had a small carton with her now, but she felt obligated to indicate she didn’t intend to freeload.
“Don’t worry about it. I have more than enough.”
He glanced at the flat red and green box she had balanced over her grocery bag. “Pizza, eh? Kids must be happy about that.” Considering how poorly she’d treated him, he was being nice. Michelle realized she should respond in kind, but it had been a difficult day, and it was far from over yet.
She smiled perfunctorily. “That was the plan.”
“Your daughter is pretty excited about playing hockey—want me to check out this league she’s talking about?”
“Angie isn’t playing this year,” she said flatly, watching the floor numbers going by.
“Does she know that?”
“She does now. Excuse any sounds of wailing you might hear from our condo.”
“Is it because of me?”
Michelle rolled her eyes. Of course, it had to be about Mr. Hockey Superstar.
“We don’t have the money to buy her equipment. We don’t have a vehicle to get to games and practices. Unlike some, we can’t afford it.”
Michelle was relieved when the elevator doors opened. She refused to defend herself to this spoiled man who could buy anything he wanted, while she couldn’t give her daughter the one thing she dreamed about. It must be nice to have everything go right for you, she thought sourly.
When she knocked on the door, Tommy opened it, and she took a deep breath, preparing to deal with her world: the one where things always seemed to go wrong.
* * *
TROY WONDERED WHY his new neighbor disliked him so much. He was trying to be nice, considering what she’d gone through. He’d been making polite conversation and, wham, out came the guilt.
He wondered if Michelle didn’t want her daughter playing hockey. But one look at the woman’s eyes and he could see that it was ripping her up to not be able to give this to her child.
He didn’t like that look. He’d seen too much of that the past year. People who were desperate to help but helpless. He didn’t want the reminder of the bad time. Besides, it wasn’t fair.
He remembered when he’d played as a kid. His dad had sacrificed a lot so he could play. He’d worn second- or third-hand hockey equipment most of the time. It had been just his dad and him, and money had been tight. Troy had shown talent from his first league games, though, and his dad had dreamed of success through his son’s hockey career, so it had taken priority over anything else.
It had consumed his father. He’d take Troy to any ice they could find and drill him, working him hard to make him better. It was too bad he’d died before Troy had lifted the Cup. His dad might finally have been happy with what Troy had accomplished. Sure, he’d been happy when Troy was drafted, but he’d complained that he hadn’t gone top ten, and that the Blaze was a crap team. Well, that crap team had won the Cup, and Troy had his ring.
Maybe it was just as well his dad hadn’t been around when Troy got his cancer diagnosis. He didn’t think the old man would have been much help with that.
He sat back on his recliner and turned on his gaming system.
He’d had a good meeting with his agent earlier, discussing a new endorsement deal that had come in for him. He should feel like he had his life back. But he couldn’t stop thinking about the unhappy girl next door.
He frowned. Michelle had spoiled a good evening. She’d brought up bad memories. He tried to bury them again, forget about her and her kid.
But after learning about her husband...that was pretty horrible. It was one thing to read about suicide in the news, but another to see people struggling with the result. To see them, and not do anything. He had been able to get help on his way up, but the family across the hall were on their own, from what he could tell.
When he’d been growing up, hockey hadn’t just been something he enjoyed. He and his dad had moved around, and Troy had been in hand-me-down clothes, but his talent at hockey had provided him with friends, and status at school. He had no idea how to help Tommy, but it would be so easy to help Angie by giving her that same cache...except, Michelle.
He was tempted to just go over and offer to pay for the kid’s hockey. But he was sure she’d slam the door in his face.
Maybe if he could get the kid into a program that would pay for hockey He worked for a hockey team—they must have some kind of fund for underprivileged kids.
And once Angie and Michelle were happy, he could focus on regaining his own life.
* * *
THE TEAM WAS a few days into training camp and Troy was feeling good. He was in the best shape of his life; his skills were as sharp as they’d ever been in training camp.
Coach Parker was running drills. Troy’s job as the defender was to stop the winger coming in. But as the winger approached him, Troy froze.
He’d done this hundreds—if not thousands—of times. But that had been before he got sick, when he could trust his body to be strong, invincible. Now, he didn’t trust it.
So instead he tried to use some fancy stick work to steal the puck. But JP slipped past him, and buried the puck in the net.
“What the— What was that, Green?” Coach Parker yelled at him. The other players had turned at the noise. He could feel their stares.
“Trying something new,” Troy said with a grin.
Coach shook his head and barked for the players to start the next drill.
Troy had always played a physical game, never afraid to throw a hit, block a shot or get into a fight.
